


Misplaced

by MoWolf



Category: Mystery Skulls Animated
Genre: Alternate Reality, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Character Death, Not Really Character Death, Sort of whump, Wrong reality, the boy needs a hug, they all do really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2021-04-03
Packaged: 2021-04-11 18:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21568297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoWolf/pseuds/MoWolf
Summary: He woke up with no memories, no idea of where he was, and the sense of something chasing him. With nothing to lose and everything to gain, he decided to start with the most familiar place and found a man named "Lance" and the start of a journey to answers."He clawed his way to consciousness. His whole body ached and a dull, pounding pressure had built up behind his eyes. An unnatural energy hummed around him, but he ignored it in favor of trying to figure out where he was."
Comments: 29
Kudos: 178





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this exclusively on Tumblr. I ran out of time and then my depression flared up, but recently I've found myself writing again and I really wanted to finish this. I'm going to repost most of the chapters directly. This first chapter has been edited because it was... Eugh. Let's just say it needed some help.

He clawed his way to consciousness. His whole body ached and a dull, pounding pressure had built up behind his eyes. An unnatural energy hummed around him, but he ignored it in favor of trying to figure out where he was. Pushing himself to his knees, he immediately took note of the scorch marks surrounding him. They formed an intricate array that encircled him and he immediately recognized the markings as forming a part of a spell. He didn’t know what spell, or where the information had come from, but it made him nervous.

He scooted back and gently eased himself off the pedestal. The floor wasn’t too far and he landed with a hollow thump. Blinking, he scanned the room he found himself. It was dark, making it impossible to determine the exact size, but he could tell the room was massive. The pedestal he’d woken up on was one of four that decorated the center of the room and a nearby carpet led the way further into the gloom.

With nothing better to do, he followed it. Deeper and deeper into the darkness he moved. With time, his eyes adjusted to the lack of light. Shadows danced in the corners of his vision, but when he turned to look closer, he found nothing there. Voices whispered at his feet, begging for release or someone to share in their torment. He carefully ignored them and kept moving. As long as he didn’t stop, he’d be fine.

Just keep going. Don’t stop, don’t ask, and don’t try to ask who was there.

Turning a corner, he paused at the slice of light that filtered through the crumbled section of wall. The light wasn’t blinding and he assumed it was dark out, but it was still enough to hurt his eyes as he approached and stepped through. He blinked rapidly to adjust to the abrupt change in lighting.

The hum of energy increased and a shudder ran down his spine. Invisible hands grabbed at him, trying to pull him back within the darkness, unwilling to let him leave. Without looking back, he marched onward, hands wrapped protectively around his chest.

Something followed him, he could feel it. The unnatural energy crackled and hummed and a memory of green fog danced across his mind. Shaking his head, he kept moving. As long as he didn’t look back, he’d be fine. Don’t stop. Keep moving. Don’t look back. Just a little bit further.

Abruptly, the energy seemed to go away and the unnatural hum died down to something annoying but tolerable. He didn’t stop to question the sudden change, but took the opportunity to charge ahead until he stumbled onto a road. He was still no closer to figuring out where he was, but where there was a road, there was bound to be a town. Picking a direction at random, he hugged the orange vest closer and began walking.

—

Morning found him curled up in the back of a pickup truck. The driver had found him walking and offered to give him a lift to the nearest town. He’d hopped into the truck bed and settled down. With the lack of movement, exhaustion had crept up and washed over him. He’d only meant to lay down for a moment.

He pushed himself up, blinked the sleep out of his eyes and grabbed blindly for the edge of the truck bed. There was a loud clank of metal hitting metal and he recoiled. It took him a moment of searching before his gaze finally fell on the metal fingers clinging to the truck.

Metal?

He pulled his hand up and wiggled his fingers. They responded as he expected, but the metal glint showed that they weren’t real. Just to make sure, he grabbed a finger and tugged gently. His brain registered the tug and the pressure of his flesh hand, but otherwise there was no sensation. How odd.

Where had it come from? Why was his arm missing? He sat down and wiggled his fingers again, trying to dig through and pull up the relevant memories. Nothing came at first and he started to give up when the impressions of sleepless nights, helplessness, and pain bubbled forth. The memories were disjointed and out of order and, as he sifted through them, he found gaps in the available knowledge.

There wasn’t time to deal with this. He had things to do. He had to figure out where he was, for one. Maybe find someone to help. The missing arm was a problem for tomorrow. Standing up again, he grabbed the edge of the truck bed and slipped out. Glancing at the truck one last time, he rubbed his shoulder where flesh met metal and began to walk away.

Keep going forward. Don’t look back.

He walked until he found a gas station and entered. He scanned the room and finally found the maps in a back corner. Meandering over, he pulled a map out and looked it over. Everything looked familiar in the sense that he had seen it before, but he couldn’t seem to draw on the information locked away in his brain.

Trauma? Concussion? Magic? There was something. He could feel it just out of reach. Every time he started to get close, a mental block would pop up and he’d shy away. Fine. He would worry about it later.

Making his way to the front, he eyed the inhabitants of the little store nervously. The map was spread on the counter as he looked up at the cashier. “Excuse me,” he asked, trying to ignore the way his voice shook and the hoarse quality from disuse (or had he screamed until his voice broke? He couldn’t be sure). “Can you tell me where I am?”

The cashier looked him over before leaning forward and tapping a small city on the map. “Right here. You alright kid?”

“’M fine.” It was a lie but it slipped out before he could come up with anything else to say. “Just lost.” He scanned the map until his gaze landed on a familiar city name. Shouting, engines, and gasoline fill his senses. Familiarity and safety. Home. He needed to go there.

He dug around in his pockets until he found a leather wallet. There was just enough cash for the map and a cup of coffee. He didn’t bother trying to use the card. A niggling feeling told him that it wouldn’t work and he couldn’t remember the PIN for it, anyways. As he left the gas station, map in one hand and coffee in the other, the hum of energy increased and he felt out of place, like he’d been badly photoshopped into an image.

He returned to the gas station once more, just long enough to get a sense of direction, and started walking. Midday rolled around and with it came the beginning of a headache. By the time the sun set, his head was pounding and his left shoulder throbbed in time with his pulse. A barely tolerable pain was coming. Something far worse than anything he would ever be capable of dealing with. But there was nothing he could do except grit his teeth and bear it.

Cars drove past and, for the most part, he ignored them. He was too tired and panicked to risk hitchhiking. It wasn’t until a car pulled off to the side a little ways ahead and someone stepped out that he finally stopped to consider.

“Are you okay?” a woman asked as she hurried over to him. He blinked back at her for a moment before he took a shuddery breath and shook his head. The woman reached out to him and said, “You poor dear. Where are you trying to go? Would you like a ride to the next city, at least? You’ll never make it on foot.”

He didn’t want to impose. The truck ride from earlier had been an ordeal, but she had a point. He couldn’t possibly walk everywhere, and maybe they could cut the travel time drastically. He clumsily pulled the map out of his pocket and held it out to here. “Um. I uh… Here.” He tapped a city that he had circled back when he’d first gotten the map and was again gifted with a sensation of comfort and promised familiarity.

“Oh, perfect!” The woman said as she grabbed his wrist and began to guide him to the car. “We’re actually planning to pass through there. We can give you a lift there. Here we go.”

They were a family of four: mom, dad, and two boys. He found himself in the back seat between the two brothers. The conversation was kept light and loose. For the most part he let the family drive the conversation, answering questions as needed and chiming in here and there.

All good things had to end eventually, however, and the family came to a hotel when the night was finally too dark and too late to keep going. For a moment, he considered staying. He had no money, and they were well aware that he had nothing to his name, but he couldn’t impose. Besides, as he waited by the car, the hissing energy prickled and nipped at his ankles and he knew he couldn’t stop even for rest.

He started to walk away when a hand grabbed his shoulder and he turned to see the mom. “Where are you going?” she asked. “It’s late. Come on, we’ll get you a room.”

He shook his head. “I-I-I’m sorry. I can’t. I- I just…” He rubbed at his eyes as the mom deflated.

“I understand. But please wait for just a minute, okay? I’ll be right back. Just a minute.” he didn’t even look up, too ashamed to risk seeing the disappointment. He waited until he felt her grab his flesh hand and press something papery into it. “It’s not much,” she said sadly. “We don’t carry a lot of cash and we don’t have a lot to spare, but it should be enough for food and a ticket to wherever you’re going.” He looked up and she gave him a sad smile. “Be careful, okay?” He nodded and she finally retreated back to her car.

How odd. He hadn’t realized just how starved for company he was until he’d been surrounded by conversation. But now he was alone. So very, very alone. He bit his lip and rubbed the port on his shoulder before finally turning away to continue his journey to wherever.

He didn’t sleep that night. He did, however, find a bus station that would take him straight to his destination. The pounding behind his eyes had steadily increased to a constant thrum and he found himself absently rubbing his temples while trying to avoid any and all sources of light.

Morning brought an entirely new level of hell. The intense migraine had brought along light sensitivity and nausea. What little money wasn’t spent on the bus ticket went to various over the counter pain killers and the strongest coffee he could find. As he resettled into his seat for the umpteenth time, he leaned against the cool window and closed his eyes. Perhaps if he could sneak a nap in, he would feel better.

He woke up to the bus about to leave his stop and only barely managed to get off in time.

It wasn’t hard for he to orient himself once he took the time to look around. One street sign and he knew what direction to take. The layout of the city came to him gradually as he walked, like a map in a video game that had to be filled in through exploration. With it came vague almost-impressions of a happy childhood spent running and playing and generally getting into trouble. He took his time walking until the familiar shop finally came into view. Hope bloomed and he dashed the final yards to the main office.

“Hello?” he called, looking around and trying to ignore the desperation in his voice. There was no answer, yet somehow he knew not to expect one. The shop had obviously been closed for the evening, which meant the work area would be deserted.

But the garage was built into a house. If he could just find the main entrance…

A quick search revealed a side entrance painted in such a way so as to not stand out. Hidden near the door, roughly hip height, was a doorbell which he pressed a couple times. It wasn’t long before heavy footsteps stomped over and the door flung open.

“What’d’ya want?” a rough voice snarled and he was hit with the impression of oil stains and endless patience. The word ‘lance’ danced around in his head but he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out why the man reminded him of an ancient weapon.

The man’s gaze landed on him and his eyes widened in shock before narrowing. “If this is some kind of sick joke,” the man snarled and he recoiled, apologies spilling forth before the thought could be finished.

“I’m sorry! I’m sor- I-I-I, Hhhh- I didn’t know wher-where else to go!” He cowered, every instinct screaming to run away. He took a step back, still babbling in a slowly ramping panic. “I’m lost. Didn’t know where else to go. I thought you’d help me. I can leave. I’m sorry.” He turned and managed all of three steps before a rough hand grabbed his right arm and held him. With a frightened yelp, he dropped and twisted, metal arm bent to protect his head and face in preparation for the blows to come.

Instead, a familiar voice soothed, “Woah there, son! Not gonna hurt you. Just…” he glanced over, still hiding behind his arm, as the older man sighed. “C’mon. Let’s get you inside.”

It took some prodding and quite a bit of effort to get him inside. He was determined to leave, the previous impressions of warmth and safety long since replaced by fear and uncertainty, while the man seemed determined to get him inside. In the end, he found himself slung over the shorter mechanic’s shoulder and hauled inside, where he was quickly deposited on the couch.

“First things first, what’s yer name, kid?”

He dithered about, flesh fingers playing with the metal port attached to his shoulder as he weighed the pros and cons of giving an answer. Finally, he ducked his head and replied, “Arthur, sir. I think...” He missed the man flinch, expression twisting as though he’d expected the answer though it still hurt.

“Drop that ‘sir’ business. It’s Lance. And hold your head up! God, yer a sorry sight.” Lance looked Arthur over before holding up a hand. “You can sleep on the couch. We’ll deal with… this,” Lance gestured at Arthur, “in the morning.”

Arthur nodded and moved to sprawl on the leather couch as Lance left the room. He’d just gotten comfortable when the man reappeared with a blanket and a pillow. The pillow was handed over and Arthur quickly readjusted himself before the blanket was unfolded and draped over him. Nothing else was said as the light was turned off and Lance retreated for the night.

Left alone, Arthur tried to settle down to sleep. It wasn’t long before the unnatural hum of energy returned in full force. His skin crawled with it and he quickly gave up on sleep. Throwing the blanket aside, he jumped up and began to pace. Keep moving. Don’t stop. As long as he kept moving, the energy couldn’t find him and he’d be safe.

Safe from what, he didn’t know, nor did he want to find out. He just knew that stopping was bad. Needless to say, he didn’t get much rest that night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which neither Arthur nor Lance know what they're doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said chapter 2 would remain untouched? Yeah... The first half stayed the same and then I rewrote the last half. It's mostly just a bit of filler before I launch myself into the parts I'm actually excited about.

“Jeeze, kid. You sleep at all last night?”

Arthur grunted at Lance, ignoring the question in favor of staring grumpily at the coffee maker. If looks could kill, Lance was sure the contraption would have long since melted. Instead, it continued to work at its own pace while Arthur glowered and silently willed it to hurry.

The question was valid, though. Arthur moved sluggishly and the bags under his eyes suggested that he hadn’t slept at all. Lance shook his head and maneuvered around the blond to pull a large skillet on to the stove. “How do you feel about eggs?” Another grunt was his only reply and he sighed. “Scrambled eggs it is. Go sit down already. Dang thing ain’t gonna start working faster if you keep glarin’ at it.”

Lance almost chuckled as Arthur let out a resigned sigh and moved to sit down at the little table. Oil was poured into the pan and he left it to warm as he retreated to the fridge to pull out the carton of eggs. A comfortable silence settled between them as Lance busied himself with cooking and Arthur fiddled with his shirt sleeve.

He needed a shower. When was the last time he’d changed his clothes? He felt grimy, as if the dirt and grit had worked their way under his skin. Perhaps a hot shower would help his blooming headache, as well. With a low groan, Arthur leaned forward and began massaging his temples. Maybe he could will it away if he tried hard enough.

There was a ding signaling that the coffee was done and Arthur almost fell out of his chair. Lance did laugh at that and Arthur snarled half-heartedly as he pulled down a mug to get some coffee. He was tempted to bring the whole pot with him just to spite the man, but something told him it wasn’t worth the risk. Instead, he filled the cup and retreated back to the table where he blew on the hot drink and watched Lance.

The comfortable silence returned and Arthur found himself relaxing despite the crackling energy and unease surrounding him. The smell of eggs filled the room and he closed his eyes, letting the familiar impressions wash over him. It was frustrating not being able to remember, but the familiar impressions were a small piece of comfort and they were all he had left. At this point, he would take what he could get.

A plate being set in front of him snapped him back to the moment and Arthur stared blankly at the fluffy eggs now sitting in front of him. “Eat up,” Lance huffed when he noticed Arthur’s apparent confusion. “You look like you need it.” He nodded his head decisively when Arthur’s stomach chose that moment to growl loudly.

Hunching defensively, Arthur looked down at the plate and the fork beside it. He was hungry – starving, actually – and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten properly, though he had the vague impression that he’d been skimping on meals for quite some time. It would certainly explain his build. His body was probably picking apart his muscles to get the necessary energy. Still, he hesitated before finally picking up the fork and eating.

The first couple bites were slow as he tried to keep track of Lance while mapping out all possible escape routes should something happen. At that point, his body decided enough was enough because food was right there and Lance was busy eating on the other side of the table. He hadn’t realized just how hungry he was, having been running on adrenaline and stress for the last couple of days.

Lance actually stopped eating in surprise when Arthur suddenly started shoveling eggs into his mouth and eating. He practically inhaled the plate of eggs and the mug of coffee and was soon waiting expectantly, fingers drumming nervously against the edge of the table. When no immediate offer of more food came, he stood up and refilled his mug with more coffee.

Arthur had just finished filling the mug when Lance chuckled and asked, “Still hungry?” Arthur nodded and watched as Lance waved toward the fridge. “Help yourself. God only knows what ya like t’eat.”

Lance returned to his own plate of eggs, though he kept half an eye on Arthur as he moved to the fridge. The fridge hummed loudly as Arthur held the door open, poking around in search of something that he felt like eating. So many options and yet nothing seemed to tickle his fancy. He finally grabbed some cream cheese and set it on the counter before hunting through the cabinets in search of bagels. By the time he’d gotten his new entrée ready to eat, Lance had finished and was depositing the dirty dishes in the sink.

“Dirty dishes in the sink. I’ve got a shop to run, so if you need me I’ll be out there.” Lance pointed in the direction of the garage and Arthur nodded. “Get a shower when yer done. I’ll see you fer lunch.” With nothing else to say, he left in the direction he had pointed earlier, leaving Arthur alone in the kitchen.

Arthur took his time eating, but with nothing left to distract him he was suddenly acutely aware of the wrongness of… well, everything. The energy seemed to get even worse and his skin crawled until he was certain it would peel off. Nausea washed over him and he left the last bites of bagel abandoned on the counter. He had to move. He had to get away.

He needed help.

Returning to the living room, Arthur paced around the room nervously as he tried to collect his thoughts. Everything was going wrong and now that he was properly awake and no longer distracted, he could feel everything catching up to him. He knew he had to have been on a concoction of medication before he’d forgotten everything. The pain from his missing arm was simply too extreme to go unmedicated and the pulsing behind his eyes suggested a lack of something that he’d been on for quite some time before.

Still, the discomfort wasn’t too bad yet. He could go a little longer before it became unbearable. Another day or two, at most. He didn’t want to bother Lance just yet. He needed help first. And answers. He would deal with these other problems when it was more convenient for him, or when they became absolutely unbearable. First, he had to figure out what had happened to him and where he’d woken up. Both seemed like important questions.

He started by exploring the house a little, quickly stumbling across a shelf full of maps and auto mechanic books. He almost went for the books, but the need for a map was more pressing, so he quickly pulled a couple off the shelf and retreated to the living room. Spreading the maps out across the floor, Arthur was soon greeted by a glaring issue.

He had no way of telling where he’d started out.

Sure, he knew what state he was in now. Three of the four maps he’d grabbed were for the same state, and he remembered seeing several more on the shelf. And he had his own smaller map with his current location circled, so he knew where he _was_. But that still didn’t answer the question of where he came from.

Several city names jumped out as being familiar, but Arthur couldn’t remember if any of them were the city where he’d picked up his map or if there was some other reason behind the familiarity. Since Lance was busy with work, Arthur had no one to go to for help.

Impressions of blue and magenta, accompanied by a phone number, danced across his thoughts. They could help. They’ve always been able to help. Well, Mr Magenta couldn’t help. Arthur couldn’t explain it, but his gut twisted painfully and he felt nauseous trying to think of them (him?). _A cliff, a fall, teeth and tails and too much red._ But Blue could help. Blue was always eager to help those who needed it.

He figured he counted as needing help.

Before the number could fade from his thoughts, Arthur stuck his hand in his pocket to retrieve a phone that should have been there, only to come back empty handed. Fair enough. He considered running out to the shop to ask Lance for help but ultimately decided against it. The number had already faded too much to be any kind of useful, and the gritty feeling of dirt and sweat was making its presence known again.

A shower sounded nice.

The maps were abandoned, scattered across the floor in favor of finding a shower.

\---

It took about two weeks for them to set up some kind of routine that worked for them both. Trying to work with Arthur was much trickier than Lance had previously anticipated. The first couple days were easy; Arthur was nervous and mostly required reassurance that he was imposing or being a bother. Sure, there were some idiosyncrasies, like how he was constantly moving about or the frighteningly complex prosthetic, but overall he was quite a bit like Lance had anticipated. Truly, he was Arthur in every way.

Well, in most ways.

The differences were subtle and served as a perpetual reminder that this Arthur was at the heart of some magical, supernatural nonsense that Lance had no hope of ever understanding. He also wasn’t about to call for help. They would only monopolize Arthur’s time and Lance wasn’t ready to share. But the differences were there and every day Lance was finding something new that he wasn’t sure how to handle.

There was the arm, for starters. His Arthur was smart, make no mistake, but this prosthetic was on an entirely different level. Arthur had allowed Lance to poke around in it and see what, if anything, would be needed for proper maintenance. If Lance didn’t know any better he’d say the work was by someone else, but Arthur’s unique signature mark had been scratched onto almost every single piece. There was no mistaking that this Arthur had clearly made the thing.

The age was another subtle indicator. While neither knew Arthur’s exact age, Lance knew Arthur was older than his had been at death. It was unfair knowing that there was an Arthur somewhere that had lived longer than his nephew.

But all of those were thoughts for another time. Lance grunted unhappily as he switched the kitchen light on to find that Arthur had, once again, left a map and a pile of papers all over the table. No amount of nagging could get Arthur to put the danged things away before crashing, and Lance was beginning to suspect that Arthur was forcing himself to stay awake until he absolutely couldn’t. It would certainly explain Arthur’s rapidly declining physical state.

And speak of the devil. Arthur stumbled into the kitchen and stared blankly at the table as Lance shoved everything to side to at least create enough space for breakfast.

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

Arthur blinked and rubbed at his face. “I’unno. Maybe?”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’.”

Arthur groaned and collapsed into the nearest chair, too tired to go for the coffee machine for once. Lance raised a brow as Arthur leaned forward and buried his face in his arms, very nearly falling asleep right there.

“You know, you really ought to sleep,” Lance said casually as he started the familiar process of eggs and coffee. “You’ve got that spare room and the couch. Not that hard.”

“Can’t sleep.”

“Why not?”

There was no reply and Lance pursed his lips. For a person with no memories, Arthur was surprisingly secretive. He didn’t like talking about things that bothered him, preferring to pretend they didn’t exist while they festered somewhere deep inside. As much as Lance wanted to help, this whole situation was outside of anything he knew how to deal with.

But he knew some people.

With a sigh, Lance set the plates on the table loud enough to jar Arthur awake before taking his own seat. “Arthur, it’s time you saw a doctor.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance takes Arthur to the doctor to see what kind of TLC is needed. Is not happy with the results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments and kudos are my bread and butter. There are few thing greater than waking up to excited comments and aggressive key smashing! :D
> 
> (Please note: the vast majority of my medical knowledge is complete BS and based off of research and vague plausibilities. I don't actually know what I'm doing.)

Waiting in the doctor’s office was difficult. Lance was happy to sit in the chair and maintain idle chit-chat with Arthur. Arthur, on the other hand, was having a small mental breakdown as he paced round and round in a tight circle. Lance wasn’t sure how Arthur kept up the energy, but he’d been pacing for half an hour and showed no signs of slowing down.

“You should sit down. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“Nope.”

“You’ll wear a hole through the floor at this rate.”

“Unfortunate.”

Lance sighed. Arthur had been resistant about seeing a doctor but had offered no solid reasoning. Hell, kid couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen one. All he remembered was nightmares and pain (which, to be fair, would make anyone wary of going to a doctor again).

“Come on-”

“No.” Arthur hugged his arms tighter around himself and squeezed his prosthetic in anticipation. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to go back to the shop where it was safe. Magic energy hummed aggressively at his feet, trying desperately to sink its claws into him, and only seemed to get stronger as his panic rose. He had to leave. Had to go somewhere - anywhere! - else.

But he’d promised.

“Kingsmen?”

Artur froze and very nearly bolted, but Lanced grabbed his wrist and gently dragged him to the back after the nurse.

“Stand on the scale.”

Arthur looked over at Lance who nodded before stepping up. The nurse scribbled something on the pad before leading the way to an empty room. There was a short process of getting all his vitals before they were left alone with the promise that the doctor would be in soon. Once alone, Arthur resumed his nervous pacing.

This time they didn’t have to wait an eternity and a half. The door opened and Lance stood up with a wide smile. “Harold!” They shook hands before the doctor took a seat and started to look over the notes the Nurse had given him. “Thanks for doing this. I know this is a difficult request, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”

“Of course, Lance. Now,” Harold set the folder on the counter and turned to Arthur, still pacing nervous circles, “you must be Arthur.” His eyes widened when Arthur finally paused and looked the doctor over with suspicion. Lance was right. This WAS a unique situation.

There was a shared moment of silence before Arthur resumed pacing, though it was back and forth this time instead of circles. Caution, Harold noted. An easy way to move while still being able to keep an eye on whatever Arthur considered to be the most pressing issue.

Instead of staring, Harold grabbed the rolling desk tray and plopped the laptop down. “What brings you in today?”

“Lance,” was the curt reply. All three snorted and Arthur finally slowed his nervous pacing and relaxed. “Lance said I needed a doctor.”

“He won’t sleep. And don’t try and argue,” Lance snapped when Arthur opened his mouth to protest. “I ain’t stupid. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.” Arthur huffed and hunched his shoulders defensively.

“Is that true, Arthur?” He nodded stiffly but refused to look up from the floor. His pacing had stopped, finally, but he continued to tap his foot nervously. “Would you like a sleep aid?”

Arthur froze and looked up at the doctor in surprise. That… That wasn’t how things were supposed to go. His brow furrowed in thought as he tried to grasp at memories that weren’t there. Doctors weren’t supposed to offer choices. They were supposed to cram pill after pill into him. Something for the symptoms, something else for the side effects, no choices offered in the matter. He curled in on himself as his gaze dropped back to the floor.

DID he want a sleep aid? Sleeping would be nice. Just once he wanted to lay down without feeling magic crawling all over him like a thousand ants. Just once he wanted to sleep for eight hours straight without waking up in a panic every time he closed his eyes. “Sleep… would be nice…”

The keys clicked for a moment before Harold asked, “Do you want a prescription or some recommendations for over the counter medicines?”

More choices? He looked over at Lance who watched him expectantly. “I uh… I don’t know.”

“Let’s start with something over the counter then. They’re easy to start, easy to stop, and there’s plenty of variety. If those don’t work then you can come back and we’ll find something stronger for you.” Harold grabbed a notepad and scribbled some names before handing the paper over to Arthur. “I’ve got some patients who take those. Start there and see if you can find something that works for you.”

“Oh. Okay.” Arthur stared at the piece of paper in confusion. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. None of this made sense.

“Is there anything else?”

“My shoulder hurts.”

“Alright. Let’s take a look.” Arthur hesitated before he finally shed the orange jacket Lance had lent him for the trip. Harold’s eyes widened as they latched on top Arthur’s prosthetic. He pointed and asked, “May I see?” Arthur nodded stiffly and Harold very carefully examined it. He had to admit, it was more advanced than anything he’d seen or heard of. And it moved and responded like flesh and bone. But, he noticed as he moved it gently, despite being lightweight it was still somewhat heavy. Unsurprising. Something that complex would need an absurd amount of moving parts and complex wiring. The fact that it was all made of metal just added to the weight.

He followed the metal up to Arthur’s sleeve and made a mental note that the attachment point was likely Arthur’s shoulder. “How often do you take this off?” he asked finally.

“It comes off?”

The doctor gave Lance a concerned look and received an equally confused shrug in response. “Well, it must come off somehow. Something this complex is heavy. No matter how lightweight you try to make something, it’s an extra weight that the body has to constantly support. If you never take it off, you risk straining muscles. At the very least, you should be taking it off at night to give your body a break.”

Arthur nodded, mind whirring. Logically it made sense, but without any knowledge of how it worked he had no idea of how to remove it, let alone reattach it later. “Okay but… I still don’t know how.”

“Fair enough. Would you mind taking your shirt off? There’s likely something near where it connects.” It clearly wasn’t straps, or Arthur would have figured it out much earlier. Arthur reluctantly removed his shirt and it took everything in Harold’s power not to inhale sharply. The scars decorating Arthur’s left side were old but still deeply inset. Whatever trauma had removed Arthur’s arm had done quite a bit of extra damage.

Arthur was still looking away when Harold asked, “Could you roll your shoulders for me?” Arthur obliged and the doctor nodded unhappily. “Okay. Turn around and do that again.” Once again, Arthur obliged and did his best to ignore the way Harold poked and pressed around his back and shoulder. Finally the doctor said, “Alright, there’s a little lever here on the side. I’d like to take this prosthetic off and get an x-ray, if you don’t mind.”

“Um?”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think it’s anything serious. I just want to make sure everything is aligned correctly as that may also cause discomfort.”

Arthur shifted nervously. The idea of taking the arm off was stressful. He’d gotten so used to just having it there. What if something went wrong? “Can- can I say ‘no’?”

“Of course. I can’t force you to do anything. I still think it’s in your best interests, but it’s not that big of an issue if you don’t want to.”

“Okay. Let’s get this over with.”

Harold nodded and led the way out. Lance got comfortable in his chair and sighed. After what felt like an eternity, Arthur returned, arm in hand and looking incredibly disgruntled at the whole experience. Like he hadn’t fully understood what he was getting himself into and regretted his decision to cooperate.

“Lance, do you mind stepping out here for a moment?”

Lance raised a brow and glanced over at Arthur who was busy ignoring the world and sulking. As he followed, he asked, “What’s going on?”

The doctor waited until he’d led Lance to another room and shut the door. “I’ve gone over some of this with Arthur, but he stopped paying attention pretty quick. Um.” He glanced at the door and lowered his voice. “You said he just showed up? Doesn’t remember anything?”

Lance groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes and yes,” he finally replied. “Look, I don’t know what to tell you. He doesn’t know what’s going on half the time and I’m pretty sure he knows even less about that whole situation than either of us. Which is an impressive feat.

“I got some people who can look into the what and how and why he’s here. I just… I just want to make sure he’s okay first, you know? He’s falling apart and I don’t know how to help. So I’m doing what I can by bringing him to everyone else who CAN do something.”

“Okay.” Harold sighed, leaned back, and stared at the ceiling. After a moment, he nodded and sat up again. “Okay. Not gonna lie, I don’t like any of this. It makes no sense and I don’t know what to do with any of this. What I do know is his shoulder is several different kinds of messed up.”

Before Lance could ask what he meant, Harold pulled the pictures out and spread them out on the table. It didn’t take a genius to see that there were some major issues. Lance knew enough about the body to know that Arthur’s left shoulder blade was badly out of place and not properly connected to what it should have been connected to.

“I’m guessing this was a result of whatever trauma he experienced that caused the loss of his arm,” Harold said. “He said his shoulder hurt. I’m surprised he’s using it at all. Either he’s got an insanely high pain tolerance or he’s had this for so long that he’s gotten used to the pain. Either way, he’s going to need pain management. I’m honestly surprised anyone let it get this bad.”

“Yeah. Can you do anything about it?”

“In theory, but it would require corrective surgery and months of physical therapy. And I doubt it can be fully corrected. I’m guessing there’s some serious nerve damage. He’s exhibited some muscle weakness but it’s hard to tell how much is nerve damage and how much was whatever accident destroying the muscles in that area. Whatever happened, it was not quick.”

Lance cringed. “So what do you suggest?”

“Pain management and physical therapy. I doubt he’ll want to cooperate with a therapist, he’s been so worked up about everything, but I know some stretches and exercises that should help. For now, take him home and let him rest.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Arthur go to the museum. A great time is had for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is gonna be a shorter chapter because I couldn't come up with a good way to put all the stuff I want into one big chapter without making it feel clunky. SO I'm gonna write what I want and upload them as shorter chapters. Because the boy deserves to have a good time for a little while.

“Arthur!” Arthur looked up from his coffee as Lance strode into the kitchen with a wide grin and a pair of tickets. “Got you somethin’.”

The tickets were slapped onto the table and Lance stood back, chest puffed out and a wide grin. Arthur cocked his head and looked down at the tickets. “Museum?” he asked, setting the coffee to one side so he could get a better look. Yup, those were two museum tickets. He didn’t bother looking closely, instead dropping it back to the table with a huff. He couldn’t remember ever actually going to a museum, which he supposed could make the experience more fun. He was a blank slate for pretty much everything now.

Except…

The thought of going to a museum made his brain scream at the sheer boredom that was coming. Impressions of third-wheeling and absolute boredom crowded his thoughts even as he tried (and failed) to give Lance an appreciative smile.

“Do we have to?” Those were the wrong words and he knew that. He was supposed to be thankful and go along. Lance had been so thoughtful and caring through _everything_ and here he was, acting like a spoiled and ungrateful brat.

But he still didn’t want to go.

Lance deflated at the question. “I mean, if you don’t want to you don’t have to. Just thought you might be interested in older model cars.”

“Are they having a car show?” That didn’t seem right. Why buy museum tickets to go see a car show?

Lance scowled. “You didn’t read the ticket, did you? Lord. Museum’s got a special exhibit set up for the history of cars. From the very first to some of the most advanced today.” _Now_ he had Arthur’s interest.The idea of cars already had Arthur interested, because even if he couldn’t remember his past, he could remember his love of all things mechanical. (And Lance had been more than happy to foster that, handing Arthur broken car parts to take apart and mess about with during the day.)

** _”When???”_ **

“I thought you didn’t want to go?” He folded his arms and smiled smugly as Arthur made a series of unintelligible noises. Finally, he grabbed the tickets and said, “Later this week. Figured we could go in the morning and stay as long as you want. Less crowds and you’ll have more time to look at everything.”

\---

Lance really hadn’t expected much with the museum. Sure, this Arthur was a lot like his nephew, but even his nephew would have gotten bored fairly quickly. Looking at cars just wasn’t the same as getting under the hood and being hands-on. He’d expected to come in, stay a few hours (maybe even long enough to get lunch), and then head home. 

Except this was one of the many times that Lance was reminded that this Arthur was _not_ his nephew.

Four hours in and Arthur was still going strong. He bounced from one exhibit to the next, running ahead for a while only to go back to look at something he’d missed or to rattle off random car facts that he’d suddenly remembered at Lance before running off to look at the next thing that caught his attention. And yet, despite bouncing all over the place, Lance noticed that Arthur was somehow taking him time going through everything.

Arthur, on the other hand, was very quietly, very aggressively _losing his mind_. This wasn’t just the history of cars, like Lance had said. There were careful recreations and various descriptions of how each model was put together and worked. A few were even partially dismantled to show how various pieces went together to make the final product.

“A model A!” he gasped. Lance trailed behind him, not bothering to even try and keep up anymore. “The original Ford. Did you know he almost went bankrupt for this car? Spent almost everything he had and got stupid lucky. And look at them now!” Arthur waved his hands dramatically at the other Ford models further down. Lance chuckled at Arthur’s pure excitement until Arthur went abruptly still, expression blank as he stared further down.

He felt… odd. Like there was something missing. Or someone. Impressions of blue and purple danced through his mind and he could swear he saw a pair of silhouettes walking ahead. But then he blinked and they were gone.

Lance placed a hand on his shoulder and asked, “You okay?”

Arthur ran a hand down his face and nodded. “Yeah. Just… Just feels like I’m forgetting something.”

Lance nodded and then pointed at the next car further down. “What can you tell me about that one?”

“The model B? Came after the A. Had a much better engine so it wouldn’t overheat and break down as easily.” They continued on, Arthur actually matching Lance’s pace despite the hungry energy trying to grab onto him. He rattled off fun facts and answered whatever questions he could. Anything to chase away the sudden feelings of loneliness and missing company.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vivi and Lewis try to help someone out. Doesn't exactly work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another very short chapter before I get this story rolling again. Gonna be moving this weekend, so I wanted at least a little something until I can get back to the main plot.

Lewis looked up from his book at the third angry huff from his side and sighed. “Alright, what’s got you so worked up this time?”

“It’s this user!” Vivi snapped, sitting up abruptly and nearly throwing Mystery off the bed in the process. “They’re asking for help with some curse but won’t give any details. They’re so vague and whenever I try to get more details they just get even more vague. Hey!”

Lewis plucked the phone from her hands and scrolled through the DMs. “Huh.” There really weren’t much in the way of details. But looking closer, he could see that the person was confused about the questions being asked. “You’re using the wrong words. I bet they’re new to this.”

“No way,” she said, grabbing at her phone only to miss when Lewis held it out of reach. “The only people on that forum are people solidly in the community. Newbies don’t even know it exists.”

“Here. Let me try something.”

**[Co-user L here. Let’s start over. What’s going on?]**

**[I have a curse. I think? Not sure]**

**[You’re not sure? Do you know what it’s doing?]

[No idea. It hasn’t found me yet.]

**

“That’s an odd choice of words.”

“What is?” This time Vivi successfully retrieved her phone and looked over the new messages. Her brows shot up and she gave Lewis a confused look. “Curses have an immediate effect. This sounds more like some kind of tracking spell.”

**[Are you sure this is a curse? Curses have an immediate effect. This sounds more like tracking magic.]**

**[It is tracking me. If I stop moving I can feel it catching up]  
[But]  
[It feels wrong]  
[Angry]  
[Hungry?]  
[If it finds me something bad will happen]**

**[Do you know what will happen?]

[No idea]

[Okay]  
[Curses are target specific]  
[Do you know anyone who would want to hurt you?]

[I don’t know anyone]

**

“Oof, this is going to be a tough one.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

There was a ping and both looked at the new messages. Vivi’s eyebrows shot up again and Lewis frowned in concern. “O… kay… This is bad.”

****

**[I’m sorry]  
[I don’t have many details]  
[I really don’t know what’s going on]  
[I can’t remember anything or anyone]  
[I just woke up and it’s been following me ever since]  
[It’s been months. Can’t sleep. Can’t stop moving. Can’t get caught]  
[If I knew what was going on I’d tell you]  
[But I don’t]  
[It’s all gone]  
[Everything]  
[Hello?]  
[Are you there?]  
[Please help]**

**[We’re here]  
[We’re just not sure what to do]  
[You don’t remember anything? Do you mean like total memory loss?]  
[Amnesia?]

[That’s one way of putting it]  
[I’m missing everything before 4 months ago]  
[But]  
[This is going to sounds weird]  
[Everything feels familiar in a wrong way]

**

“Yeah, that is weird.”

**[Like deja vu?]**

**[No]  
[Feels like I don’t belong]  
[Like everyone’s imposters]  
[Or maybe I’m the imposter?]**

**[I’m sorry, but I don’t think we can help]  
[This is a lot more complex than anything we can deal with indirectly. You’ll need to find someone to help you in person.]  
[But there is a basic spell you can use to hide yourself from the tracker spell]  
[Give me a sec to draw it for you]**

Lewis took the phone so Vivi could grab a sheet of paper and start drawing. While she worked, he wrote a list of professionals the person could look to for assistance. Once Vivi was finished, they snapped a pic and provided a quick walkthrough of what to do. The phone pinged with a series of “Thank you”s and a few apologies for being confusing and difficult.

Finally finished, Lewis handed her phone back and laid back down. “Well, that was interesting.”

“Tell me about it. I hope they get the help they need.” She snuggled into Lewis’ side and hummed happily as Mystery resettled against her legs. “At least it’s over now. I’ll have to let a mod know someone without any connections managed to get in, though.”

“Or you could let a mod know we’ve got a memory loss case. Someone can investigate. It’s possible they’re deep in the community already, but with magic-induced amnesia there’s no way of knowing what they’re involved with. That would explain how they found their way to the forum.”

“True.” Silence. And then, “We should visit Lance soon. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah. Gotta finish this case first, though. Might be a while considering how things are going.”

Vivi sighed. Lewis was right, of course. Their latest job was much more involved than they had been led to believe. And she wasn’t particularly excited to go back. It wasn’t fair to Lance to go between visits as long as they did, but the constant reminders still hurt. Still peeled open wounds that she wasn’t ready to deal with yet. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready.

Lewis, sensing her discomfort, wrapped an arm around her and held her close. “At the very least, we should have him give the van a tune-up. It’s been far too long.”

“Yeah…”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, there were pictures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _ **GUESS WHO'S BACK?!!** _
> 
> But seriously, I got caught up in Covid/isolation depression, insane amounts of overtime, and an absolute hell semester. But I'm forcing myself to scale back on overtime and my current class is overwhelming but not to the point of having no free time so I'm jumping back on the writing wagon! Which is great because I am so desperate to get to the next few chapters _hhhhhhhhhhh_
> 
> ALSO ALSO I will be making an effort to respond to all comments that I receive moving forward! I haven't been able to before for a variety of reasons, but I've got time scheduled daily to write and some of that time will be dedicated to responding to comments because you guys deserve it! :3
> 
> Apologies for the micro chapter, but I really couldn't fit it in properly with the next chapter.

Arthur had never really questioned why there were no pictures displayed in the small house. To be fair, he had no real frame of reference. But still. Apparently there had been pictures. Finding them had been an accident, but their presence answered a question he hadn’t known existed and raised several that he wasn’t sure he wanted answered.

The face that stared back at him was painfully familiar. The lopsided grin and gangly limbs. Was this why Lance had been so eager to take him in? Arthur ran a finger carefully over the glass, leaving a dust-free streak. The face was younger and all limbs included, but it was definitely him. He’d recognize his own face anywhere.

Arthur set the framed picture on the bed next to him with reverent care and reached in for another. There wasn’t much in the way of framed pictures. He wasn’t sure if these few were particularly special or if there was some other reason for the frames, but they had clearly been packed carefully along with an album. He pulled the album into his lap, a particularly thick book with the name “Kingsmen” stamped in gold foil across the spine.

He was prying, he knew. He should have put the box back as soon as he’d discovered its contents, but…

Before he could talk himself out of it, he flipped the cover open and looked at the photos. The first few pages were standard baby and toddler pictures, with little notes like “First birthday” or “Fun in the sun!!!” scrawled in the free space. A few of them made him chuckle, and Lance made an appearance in several. The two women were familiar, like a word on the tip of his tongue, but beyond the vague sense that he _should_ know them he felt nothing.

But then he flipped a page and felt his breath catch in his throat. A pair of boys covered head to toe in mud and dirt and looking absolutely pleased with themselves. _”What **happened** to you?!” “We foun’ a lizard!” “I can see that, but all this mud-” “It’s so big!” “Arthur, let the poor thing go. ***** what happened?”_ The memory faded just as quickly as it had come and Arthur was left with frustration and a vague headache. Each picture from there was a little half memory with tidbits of conversation or brief surges of emotions.

Until Arthur flipped the page and the familiarity just stopped.

What?

Arthur flipped the page back and looked it over. There they were again. Little impressions of events that he knew had happened, even if his brain struggled to fill in the events. Every picture a snapshot of a forgotten moment. The last picture was three young adults ranging from excited to nervous and an all too familiar van. There were still pictures when he flipped the page, but no familiarity. It took him far too long before he noticed why.

He wasn’t in any of them.

Flipping through the last few pages confirmed his suspicion. The three in front of the van was the last. After that he was just… gone. Flipping back, Arthur stared into the smiling faces and wondered what happened.

Green fog swirled in the corners of his vision. A barely audible whisper in his ear. _”I can fix that.”_


End file.
